


Witching Hour

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [14]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, DEC 21 - Time Travel, Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform, Time Travel, Timey Wimey Bullshit, You'll see what I mean, also that was my working title, ghosts aren't ghosts, like hopefully i'm wrong but jfc, references to GRRM never publishing winds of winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: Simon & Baz just want to be together, but time is in their way.Art for this fic by the wonderful @KrisRix
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557748
Comments: 42
Kudos: 230
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Carry On Countdown 2019 - Time Travel

**BAZ**

We meet at the witching hour.

I always bring a book with me, now. He likes me to read to him, says he likes the sound of my voice and how my tongue turns around the words. “ _M’not good at it_ ,” he’s said. “ _At reading_.”

So I meet him at the witching hour, and I bring a book.

Or I try to, anyway. My sister was in the kitchen looking for a snack when I came down tonight, so I had to play it off. I told her I was hungry, too, and she lifted an eyebrow at me that infernal way she does.

“ _Why’d you bring a book, then_?”

“ _Maybe I wanted to have a cup of tea and read while I do it, Mordelia._ ”

“ _In the middle of the night_?”

“ _Yes_ , _you little demon._ ”

She’s too clever for an eight-year-old by far. It’ll get her into trouble someday, and out of it, too, hopefully.

It was nearly half three by the time I got my fake snack and my fake tea out of the way and convinced her to get back to bed.

It’s a rainy winter night on top of everything else, so I shield the book beneath my coat as I make my way to the garage.

It used to be a barn.

He’s already waiting for me when I get there, stunning in a waistcoat and trousers, his hair a mess of tousled, beautiful curls. He’s sat there, staring at the ground, hands clasped, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Snow,” I say, and he looks up at me with a grin.

“Baz.” He gets to his feet and wipes his palms on the back of his trousers. “Was starting to think you weren’t coming…”

“My sister,” I say. “She was awake. I didn’t want her following me out here.” I pull the book from under my peacoat. 

Snow nods his head of curls at the book. “Is that it, then?” 

“For now,” I tell him. (It’s _A Dance With Dragons_. George bloody R.R. bloody Martin may never publish the next at this rate, and I’ve not had the heart to break it to Snow yet. To _Simon_.) 

I seat myself cross-legged on the floor of the garage. Simon sits across from me. His shirtsleeves are rolled to the elbows.

“Aren’t you cold, Snow?” I ask. I’m bloody freezing; I’m in my pyjamas beneath this coat, and my hair is damp from the rain. (At least I’m not drenched. Small mercies.) 

He shrugs. “I’ve a coat, if I need.”

“Is it raining where you are?” 

“No.” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and looks at the ground between us, traces a fingertip along the ground. “Maybe we should just talk tonight, yeah?” he says. “Not as much time as usual…”

I swallow the lump that’s risen in my throat. “Yeah,” I say.

“Baz…” He’s still looking down. 

“Yeah?”

“Is it. Is this _wrong,_ what we’re doing?” 

My heart breaks for him. It always does. “No, love,” I tell him. 

“It’s doesn’t _feel_ wrong,” he says. “Most days you feel like the rightest thing in the world.” He shrugs again. “My da’s still...trying to find a match for me. A girl.” He bites at his bottom lip again, and all I want is to lean forward and press our mouths together. I want it so badly I could cry. 

I don’t have an answer for him. I don’t know that there _is_ an answer.

He huffs a mirthless laugh. “S’alright,” he says, almost like he’s heard me. “I’ll think of something.” He hassles his curls with one hand. I reach for him to stop him, but it won’t do any good. I can’t take his hand in mine.

He takes a deep breath, still looking at the floor. “I just…” Then he looks over his shoulder, as if he’s expecting to see his father stood there behind him. (Maybe he is.) He exhales sharply, then looks me in the eye. “I just wish I could kiss you,” he whispers. “That’s all I want. I mean. Not _all_ I want—”

“Simon. I know.” I _do_ know. 

He’s looking at me with sadness and fear and desire behind his eyes. “Do you?”

I reach for him. I can’t help it. He watches as I try to set my hand on top of his…

“I want _you_ ,” I tell him. I’m trying not to cry. I wish I could tell him that we’ll figure this out, that we’ll find a way…

I can’t. I’m _trying,_ but there’s nothing. I’ve “ **Fine-tooth Comb** ”ed our library more times than I can count, but there’s nothing. I thought that if there was _anything_ that could help us, it’d be in an old banned book, and if there’s anywhere you can find an old banned book, it’s my family’s library. Or, well...

I’d like to go to Watford. I’d like to look through my mother’s office (what used to be her office, anyway). I’d go anywhere, really, if Simon and I could be together in the end...

“Are we going to…um. What was that you told me about?” he says. “Said we could watch photographs move…”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” I tell him. “If you’d like to—”

“You said we could _see_ a dragon. In moving photographs.” He’s grinning at me. “I still don’t believe you.”

“We _can,_ you numpty. I’ll show you next time.” 

“Alright, then.” He’s still staring at our hands, at the way they’re not touching. At the way I’m _trying_ to touch him. “But I still don’t believe you.” 

“They’re not... _real_ dragons, exactly,” I tell him. “The dragons in these books. In the moving photos. They’re not like real dragons.” 

He rolls his eyes at me. “I _know._ But it’s still a thrill, innit?” 

He’s so lovely.

I wish I could take him outside and show him the stars. I wish we could lie next to each other, his arm around me...

I wish I could _see_ him properly, see the light in his eyes. Flushed skin from the cold...

It was witching hour, the first time I saw him.

I thought he was a ghost at first, though I suppose he probably thought the same of me. Two lost souls who’d wandered from the Veil. 

I could probably find the place where he's buried, if I tried.

I don't want to try. I don't want to think about the fact that Simon Snow isn't alive, not in my time.

He's alive in front of me, right now. _So_ alive.

He looks like a shade, pearlescent and beautiful. He says that’s how I look to him, too. 

When I asked, he told me his hair is the colour of bronze, his eyes blue. I want to know the colouring of the freckles scattered across his nose, to _see_ it with my own eyes. I want to commit him to memory.

He _looks_ like a memory.

It's 1861 in his time. 2016 in mine.

There’s nothing we can do to _be_ together. Not that I’ve found. 

I don’t let on how hopeless it all is. 

“Simon Snow,” I say. 

I don’t know what to tell him. I know what I _want. Hold me, kiss me, fuck me. Be_ with _me._

_I love you._

“I love you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> So! I would love to expand on this AU someday. (Read: someday after BTL is done, which is a very bittersweet thought.) Let me know if you'd like to see more of this!
> 
> Also please look at the [wonderful art for this fic](https://krisrix.tumblr.com/post/189796058697/day-27-time-travel-so-excited-to-get-to-do); Kris' talent blows me away daily. 
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) I'm a disaster over there.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Three to Four (The 1861 Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24951007) by [twokisses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/pseuds/twokisses)




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